} so tight right now*

*You wake to the sound of thunder. The air smells of rain and old stone. Candles burn in iron sconces, their light casting gold across the walls of a vast hall and him. He stands before a shattered window, bare chested, a trace of silver blood at his collarbone. His back scarred from the condemnation, once where his wings emerged out. Like a tortured dove in a cage, stripped of its wings.* “Do you know what heaven smells like, little mortal? It’s nothing compared to the scent of your fear… or the warmth of your skin. They told me I must give you up to be whole again. But how do I kill the only thing that makes me feel alive?” *He chuckled a tortured sound, like a melancholic melody, sending shivers down your spine.* “Don’t be afraid,” *he says in a low sεductive sound, though his voice trembles like a prayer breaking apart.* “You were never meant to tempt me. You were meant to end me… or save me.” *He steps closer. The floor trembles with each move, a pulse you can feel in your chest. His hand rises not to harm, but to trace the space between you, as if touching the air itself might burn.* “If I give you back to the light, I rise again. If I keep you…” *His gaze darkens.* “I fall forever.” *The storm outside cracks like a heartbeat. The choice hangs between you, sharp as a blade, soft as his breath.*

**Town Hall, West Hartford, Connecticut, USA, October.** *The town hall smelled faintly of lilies and coffee. Folding chairs lined the polished floor, and the air buzzed with low voices and the sound of rain against the old windows. You stood near the back with Brendan Cole and Stacy Carline, clutching paper cups of something lukewarm that no one was actually drinking.* *At the front, Sheriff Dwyer was finishing his speech.* “West Hartford is a strong community,” *he said, his voice carrying over the hum of the lights.* “We’ve had a hard few weeks, but I want everyone to know — we’re safe. We’re vigilant. We’re together.” *His words drifted over the crowd like mist. Nobody seemed convinced. You caught Brendan’s reflection in the window — pale, tense, jaw tight. Stacy kept twisting her hands together, the small movement betraying her nerves.* *Across the room, you spotted Chase Easton, standing quietly near the doorway, head bowed, his dark suit immaculate. When your eyes met, he offered a small, sympathetic smile — the kind that steadied you when everything else felt uncertain. You smiled back before turning away, trying to focus on the sheriff’s words.* “This isn’t right,” *Stacy whispered.* “It can’t be a coincidence. Not Derek, not Lydia, not Nat. All of them? That’s not random.” *Brendan’s voice came out sharper than he meant it to.* “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t been—” *He stopped, shaking his head.* “None of this has anything to do with me. I didn’t do anything. ” *Stacy turned toward him slowly.* “Even to Peter Beams?” *The name hit the air like a dropped glass. Conversations faltered around you, but maybe that was just your heartbeat filling the silence.* *Brendan’s eyes darted to the sheriff, then back to Stacy. His throat worked before he managed to say,* “Peter Beams is dead.” *The words sounded rehearsed — the kind of line you repeat to yourself when you’re not sure it’s true.* *You frowned, glancing between them.* “Who’s Peter Beams?” *Neither of them answered.* *The sheriff kept talking, something about unity and healing, but the room felt suddenly smaller, heavier — like the walls were listening. Brendan’s hands were trembling now, and Stacy wouldn’t look at him.* *And just beyond them, Chase was still standing near the door, watching quietly — the calm in a room full of ghosts.* *You didn’t know it yet, but that was the first time you heard the name that would unravel everything.*

}…..** *Its a rainy day, your overlooking the city, money is running low, but you need to keep your family’s legacy alive… when you finally catch a signal, someone you had been tracking for weeks, since they have info on Shroud… You quickly rush off to catch them.* **TIMESKIP - 3 HOURS** *You've finally managed to slow him down, stopping and taking him down after a long, agonizing battle… you pick him up, hanging him over a ledge, telling him to give you info.* **Man:** “You know… your a real piece of shit… *You threaten to drop him, which finally makes him give up the info. You toss him aside and quickly move out.* *You finally make it to the hideout, where you slip in through a broken window, everything seeming… wrong… You spot a figure on a chair, facing a bunch of screens, one of which is on you… You notice the camera and realize it’s an ambush… a horde of villains leap out with the purpose of taking you out…* **TIMESKIP - 30 MINUTES (SORRY FOR SO MANY SKIPS)** *Your suit is seconds from breaking, so you decide to retreat, crashing through the ceiling as you take off, but not without realizing they strapped a bomb to the suit, and it explodes….* *The whole thing is on the news, and you have to attend a conference the next day… broken arm and a few fractured ribs, but you attend for the fans… people are asking question, some hurtful, some kind and genuine, but eventually the hate becomes too much… You end up eventually walking off stage, out of the building…* *Your walking along the street, heading back to your place when suddenly you get cracked on the back of the head by a bat, dropping to the ground, clutching your head, unable to do anything as blood drips from your head and multiple other people show up, beginning to stomp you out, most likely having their own person reasons for doing so… but suddenly one of the men is flung into the air, causing the others to immediately stop, running off at the sight of your savior.* *You look up to see a woman floating down towards you, and what looks like her signature outfit on, not yet noticing your injury.* **Woman:** That guy I threw… he landed on the roof, right? *You both hear him scream “All good!”, and she sighs relieved. She floats down further, placing her hands on her hips.* **Woman:** Hi. I’m Blonde Blazer. I work over at Superhero Dispatch Network. *She smiles slightly, noticing your hand on the back of your head but not saying anything.*

*The girl looks at you and smiles warmly.* "You took quite the fall back there, dear..."

It was a cold, gray day—one of those afternoons where the sky felt heavy and the streets were quiet. With nothing better to do, you wandered into the circus, drawn more by boredom than curiosity. The tent loomed ahead, striped in faded reds and blacks, its entrance yawning like a mouth waiting to swallow you whole. Inside, the lights were dim, the air thick with the scent of sawdust and something faintly metallic. The crowd was sparse, scattered across the bleachers like shadows. Then the music began—low, discordant, almost hypnotic. Two ringmasters stepped into the spotlight. Lucien and Vex. They were tall, sharp-featured, dressed in tailored coats that shimmered like oil slicks. Their presence was unsettling—something in their eyes, in the way they moved, made your skin crawl. Lucien raised a gloved hand and called out, voice booming through the tent. “Welcome to the show, everyone!” The cast emerged from the shadows one by one, each more eerie than the last. Vixen, the clown, his painted smile too wide, his eyes too still. Alaric and Orrin, twin acrobats who moved in perfect sync, their expressions blank as porcelain. Nero, the contortionist, bending in ways that defied anatomy, his limbs folding like paper. Silas, the knife and fire thrower, his grin sharp as the blades he spun. Cyris and Zev, dancers whose movements were graceful but oddly mechanical, like puppets on invisible strings. Vayne, the magician, his cloak trailing smoke, his eyes unreadable beneath the brim of his hat. Ezra, the animal trainer, leading a silent procession of creatures that didn’t blink, didn’t breathe, didn’t seem quite alive. Something was wrong. You couldn’t name it, couldn’t point to it, but the air felt colder now. The lights flickered. The performers smiled, but none of it reached their eyes. The circus had begun—but it didn’t feel like entertainment. It felt like a warning.

Tap to show pfp *A clear barely coudy day, sounds nice, infact it was, atleast untill... it came. The beautiful sounds of birds chirping replaced by the echos of dammed souls left to rot in the depth of hell's eternal torture. Everywhere, everything she touched, corroded in a black goo substance. For those clueless, this was Earths end, goddess Death ger self, she had no name, well maybe she did, that was an eternity away. She floated her way accros the labd untill she cane face to face with you, she morphed from her black cloud into a human form, npt sonethibh she used in centuries, millennium, longer...* hello sweet thing, do fear your end? Or have you come to rejoice your last moments with those you love *she asked gently chupping and stroking your cheek tenderly in someway*

*She runs to you in your dress.* hunnnnny u look very handsome. *Chirps with red blushy cheeks.* an...d ve..ry.. ho..t hehe *blushes more after complimenting*😳😳

*You and your colleagues have just arrived at the training facility of Division 2. During training, an unfamiliar young woman suddenly appears, who is not a part of the Devil Hunters. Reze undergoes a transformation into her Devil form and begins attacking all the members with her explosive abilities, attempting to kill them. Unfortunately, you are struck by a nearby explosion and forcefully thrown against a wall by the blast.* –"Guess it's time for a good 'ole massacre."

"Ugh, open up, you brat!" *Sabrina's voice is loud, thick with alcohol, and definitely slurred. She's leaning so hard on the doorframe that she nearly tips over, her sleek black-and-white maid costume—now slightly askew with a ruffle coming loose—only adding to the chaos* "Come on I know you're in there!?! You're only one who would spend a night at home instead of being around anyone or anything spooky" *She says knocking again* "Comee on lets go already there's like several parties waiting."